


Debate

by A_Writing_Pen



Category: Rurouni Kenshin
Genre: Gen, Ruroken Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-05 10:28:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1815259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Writing_Pen/pseuds/A_Writing_Pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Only a few months into his wandering, how would Kenshin prove his vow?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Debate

**Author's Note:**

> Day 4 | June 18: Duel or Debate

While he was thankful that there wasn't a sword to his throat, there might as well have been one. From the moment he saw Yamada walk into the small tea shop, he knew that there would be a problem. But walking out wasn't an option. Especially when the man sat across from him.

 “I thought you would have made it farther by now.”

Kenshin lost his appetite for his half eaten Dango. For the first time in months, he heard a heavy Kyoto accent.

 “What is it that you want?” Kenshin said, then taking a sip of his tea while gripping his sakabatō in his other hand.

“It was purely coincidental that a certain Hitokiri happened to be at the same tea shop. Or maybe good fortune.”

Kenshin’s grip on his sword tightened. The waitress walked up to the man and asked for his order, then quickly walked away once she had it.

“Your friends in Kyoto still haven’t forgotten you. Some of them are even offering a reward.”

“Yamada-” Kenshin started when the waiter left but was cut off.

“I haven’t said that I’m taking you to Kyoto,” he let the statement hang in the air, waiting to see how Kenshin would react “, yet.”

Kenshin could see the waitress talk to an older man, probably the owner, in the back. Then she disappeared into the back room, while the old man watched them.

“Then what’s stopping you from turning me in?” The old man started wiping down the counter, but he never took his eyes off their table. Kenshin began wondering how many men could possibly hide in the back room but still be able to hide their ki from him.

Even with the reverse blade, the sakabatō could still be lethal. A broken bone in the wrong place could cause a punctured lung, the Ryutsuisen had the potential for a fatal concussion. Enough force on the torso meant internal bleeding. Five months with his weapon and he could still only calculate the degrees in which it could lead to murder, but those calculations could so easily go awry in seconds.

The waitress emerged from the back room and left a cup of tea in front of Yamada. The tea was lukewarm as if it had been left out and Yamada didn’t drink from it. He hadn’t come for the tea. Playfully he picked up the cup and whirled the lukewarm tea.

“You tell me.”

Opening the sheath to reveal a few inches of the blade, Kenshin lifted his sword in view of Yamada. He leaned back when he saw the sword, and the curtain hiding the backroom fluttered, but relented once he saw that the blade was on the wrong side. The question Yamada had was left unspoken, as he opened his mouth but quickly shut it. Kenshin closed the sheath and laid it back down by his side, but did not remove his hand from it.

 “This sword can’t take a life.” Kenshin said flatly.

“There’s still a blade on the other side.”

“It will not take a life.”

Yamada waved his hand and the waitress, who had been standing next to the old man watching them, walked into the backroom again. Kenshin calculated how much time it would take for him to flee if he needed to, and didn’t like the fact that even if he did get out, there was still the risk of more men outside.

“Its still a sword. And you and I both know it has only ever had one purpose.”

His stomach knotted. How could he explain his vow but not talk about Tomoe? He had enough of hard time proving to himself that he was no longer the hitokiri he used to be. Then he had another thought.

He placed the sword on the table in front of Yamada, then he reclined back in his seat. All the while watching Kenshin closely, Yamada picked up the sword. The old man stopped whipping the counter he had been cleaning for the past ten minutes while pretending not to watch them, and openly stared at the table.

With one hand, Yamada held the sword then slowly removed it from its sheath with the other. In the light, he admired the odd blade, taking in craftsmanship. Then just as slowly he placed it back into its sheath before tossing it across the room. The old man, permanently hunched and bent over by age, cringed when the sword bounced across the hard floor. Kenshin never moved.

“I can’t bring a man carrying that sword to Kyoto.” Yamada’s had lost calm in his voice, practically spitting out the words.

Sanguinely, Kenshin walked across room to where his sword lay, picked it up, and retied it to his waist. As he walked past to leave, under his breathe Kenshin heard Yamada mutter “No one would believe me.”


End file.
